Miss Mischief ▶ George Weasley

Chapter Thirty-Five

Even though the year had just began, Emerson was ready for it to be over. She loved her classes, but it was a lot to handle. Studying took up most of her time and, though she was barely into her second week of the year, Emerson felt that she was drowning in school work.

Fred and George seemed just as bothered by the amount of school work as well, mumbling and grumbling about how it shouldn't matter how many OWLs they got as long as they got out of Hogwarts without killing anyone. Emerson laughed at this.

"Can't wait to have the conversation with McGonagall about what I'm gonna with my life after we leave," Fred muttered as he lazily flipped through his Transfiguration book one evening in the library.

"What do you want to do?" Emerson asked him. They were beginning the course of Transfiguration buy studying vanishing spells. Emerson didn't exactly hate casting spells and charms and all of that nonsense, but it wasn't her favorite. She enjoyed more of the hands on work like in Potions or Herbology. If she got in Outstanding on her Potion's exam at the end of the year she'd be able to move onto Alchemy, if there were enough students.

"I dunno," Fred shrugged. "Maybe open a joke shop. Design a new line of joke quills or something like that."

Emerson looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "You're a very creative person, Fred. I'm sure you'll be able to find a path that suits you."

"And what do you want to do?" George prodded her with the sharp end of his quill, leaving a large dot of ink on Emerson's arm. "Since you seem to have gotten your life together."

"I'm thinking of becoming a Healer. If I get an O in Potion's I'll be able to learn more about remedies and healing and all that," Emerson told them. She was quite excited, but she knew that it would be a long road of studying ahead. She would need to get an OWL in Charms, Herbology, and Transfiguration as well. It was going to be a busy next few years.

George rolled his eyes. "Listen to you, planning your future out."

Emerson waved her hand in the air.  "I'm sure you can do the same if you tried, Weasley," she teased.

"Oh, screw you, Diors."

"Don't tempt me with a good time."

The words left Emerson's mouth before she even though about it. Her hands smacked over her mouth and her eyes grew wide as she took in the twins' reaction. Fred was now kneeled over trying to conceal his laughter as to not get kicked out of the library. George's face grew red, his brown eyes wide from Emerson's words.

"Oh my gosh I didn't mean to say that," Emerson told him quickly, her own face heating up

George's embarrassment turned into a sly, mischievous smirk. "Oh I'd give you a good time."

Fred laughed harder, now laying on the floor clutching his ribs. Emerson didn't know why he thought it was so funny, if anything it was embarrassing. No one knew that she liked George, and she didn't want to make them think so by saying that.

The smirk still plastered on his face, George winked. Emerson died.

She slammed her head down into her book and groaned. Normally Emerson wouldn't be bothered by such a comment, but her crush on George getting the best of her. Not thinking before she spoke was the first sign.

"Don't worry, love, I'm only kidding."

Emerson died again. The only thing George had ever routinely called her was "Emery" or "Diors," when he was feeling particularly sassy. Now he's calling her "Emmie" and "Love." It was too much for her brain to handle.

By now, Fred had gotten up off the floor and slouched into his chair. His face was ready and streaky, from his tears of laughter. Emerson lifted her head up to glare at him. "It wasn't that funny."

"Trust me, it was too funny. You just told George you'd fu—"

Before Fred even knew what hit him, Emerson had slipped of her shoes and chucked them at his chest. His mouth dropped open and he glared at her. "Woman! What is with you and throwing your shoes at people!" he said loudly as George began laughing.

Just as Emerson was about to respond, she was interrupted by loud thwack at the table. Madame Pince stood there, eyes bulging out of her head and her thin wrinkled lips pinched together. In her hand she had a ruler, which was now pressed against the table.

"There will be no violence or shouting in my library," Madame Pince said sternly, emphasizing each word as though it would make the three of them regret the day they were born. "Get out."

Scrambling to get their books into their backs, Emerson, Fred, and George made a break for it. They raced towards the common room, making it all the way there before Emerson realized how dumb she was.

"Uh guys?" Emerson looked down at her socks. They were so worried about not being hit by Madame Pince's ruler that she didn't put on her shoes. "I forgot my shoes."

"Oh you dumbass," Fred told her. Emerson smacked his arm and began heading back down the stairs to go back to the library but stopped when she heard George wait.

"Accio shoes."

Emerson looked at George who just winked at her. Moment's later she looked down the stairs at the sound of something whizzing towards them.

Holding out her hands, Emerson was prepared to catch her sneakers. But unfortunately that did not happen as they hit her square in the chest. Fred exploded again with laughter and George frantically helped her up, apologizing over and over again.

"That's what you get for throwing you're shoes at people, Emery," Fred laughed.